Until the Sky is No Longer Gray
by storybycorey
Summary: Post Home Again "Oh God," she breathes, suddenly overwhelmed with her skin slicked against his own, so familiar, so warm, so solid, so not a cold, damp log with ashes at their feet.


They sit until the gray sky is no longer gray, until an inky blue has swallowed the clouds and the air feels like damp concrete. Her head against his shoulder, his arm around her back, the two of them the only point of warmth in a vast, cold landscape.

They don't speak. But their silence is anything but cold. Silences have kept them warm for twenty-three years. Silences between them are rich with heat. Breaths and heartbeats and sighs. Pain and regret. Acceptance and trust. Love. They speak all these things without words, and these things keep them warmer than the most blistering flames of a fire.

But night is falling, and Maggie's ashes have long since dissolved into the deep of the sea.

Her tears sound like rain as they track down her cheeks, and he squeezes her shoulder in response. "Hey," he murmurs, "You should get home, get some rest."

He slides his fingers to twine between her own, and pulls her to her feet. But as he turns to head up the bank, she draws him back, she pulls him so he surrounds her, so he encloses her in the protective shell of his body. She grips at his lapels, looks him in the eyes and whispers, "Take me home, Mulder."

The words—the paragraphs, the chapters—she doesn't say hover in the space between them.

And he's powerless against them.

…

In the bedroom they used to share, she pulls his mouth to hers, sucking his breath into her lungs, hoping it will fill her so fully, there will be no space left for the pain. He's always been able to do that, to help her forget, to erase the sorrow, even if only for a few moments.

"Scully," he murmurs against her hungry lips, "Is this smart? Should we do this?"

"I need it, Mulder," she pleads. "I need you… need you… need you," she whispers again and again as she kisses her way across his jaw. Her sad, wet eyes as she looks up at him bore through tissue and bone, settling deep and heavy within his soul.

There's no way he can deny her. It's an ability he willingly discarded years ago. He cradles her cheeks and nods, willing to hand over anything she asks of him.

Permission granted, she turns desperate, pressing her palms into the base of his skull and devouring him, lips and tongue and teeth, each fighting for dominance as she attempts to slowly consume him. He returns in kind, caught in her frenzy and unable to resist this woman he feared had been lost to him.

Before long, their funeral skins are shed and limp on the floor, and their hands are rediscovering places almost forgotten. He can't believe that spot on her belly is still the softest thing he's ever touched.

With her fingers pressed into the flesh of his hips and her lips skating along his clavicle, she urges him back toward the bed. As his knees hit the edge and he falls, he grips the globes of her ass, tumbling her down on top of him.

"Oh God," she breathes, suddenly overwhelmed with her skin slicked against his own, so familiar, so warm, so solid, so not a cold, damp log with ashes at their feet.

His arms sweep across her back as she rises to straddle him, and it feels like home again as she slides her wet center over the length of his cock. She fills herself with him, and their moans are rich with the many, many months they've gone without.

Their pelvises need no time to recall the rhythm they've perfected through the years. It's divine how easily their bodies are able to pick up exactly where they left off— if only it were this easy for their hearts.

She lays herself against his chest and tucks her nose beside his neck. She's always loved it in this spot, breathing in his air, surrounding herself with him as their bodies undulate in perfect unison. She wishes she could stay here forever, in this space where there is no pain, no sadness, at least not while his hips are thrusting, thrusting, pushing it all away.

And then suddenly, she is almost there, he is almost there, and they grip each other tightly as the moans catch deep within their throats.

"Scully," he grits through his teeth.

She grinds herself against him, frantically, frenziedly, searching for release as he arches up to meet her. When she finds it, her mouth falls open and her teeth scrape along his jaw, and she clenches around him with fury. He follows right behind her, gasping her name up into the air. He sees it ignite, then watches as it falls back over them in ashes.

Minutes pass before their harsh breaths are calm once again.

They separate enough to gather the sheets, then he enfolds her in his arms, her head on his chest. This position is so ingrained in their bodies, they don't even need to think.

After a while, she interrupts the stillness with a broken voice, "Mulder, you're not only a dark wizard, you know."

He waits.

"You're also a knight," she says through tears, "You're a knight in shining armor."

He doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing. He pulls her closer as he thinks about their lives, broken apart and mended too many times to count.

He feels her tears as they catch in the hairs of his chest, pooling there before they trickle down his side.

They fall asleep, warmed by a silence twenty-three years old.


End file.
